PR 5572 
.S3 
1890 





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SEA-FAIRIES 



AND OTHER POEMS 



BY 



ALFRED TENNYSON 




BOSTON 
ESTES AND LAURIAT 

PUBLISHERS 






Copyright, 1890, 
By Estes and Lauriat. 



SSnibcrsttg il3rcss: 
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 




CONTENTS. 



Sea Fairies. 

The Mermaid. 

Recollections of the Arabian Nights. 

The Dying Swan. 

Nothing will Die. 

Mariana in the South. 



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SER FAIRIES 

V\^n^ AND °TnL[\ poms. 






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THE SEA-FAIRIES. 



Slow saiFd the weary mariners and saw, 
Betwixt the green brink and the running foam. 
Sweet faces, rounded arms, and bosoms prest 
To Httle harps of gold; and while they mused 
Whispering to each other half in fear, 
Shrill music reached them on the middle sea. 

Whither away, whither away, whither away? fly no 

more. 
Whither away from the high green field, and the 

happy blossoming shore? 
Day and night to the billow the fountain calls: 
Down shower the gambolling waterfalls 
From wandering over the lea: 
Out of the live-green heart of the dells 
They freshen the silvery-crimson shells. 
And thick with white bells the clover-hill swells 
High over the full-toned sea: 
O hither, come hither and furl your sails, 



Come hithei- to me and to me: 

Hither, eome hither and frolic and pla}-; 

Here it is only the mew that wails j 

We will sing to 3'ou all the day: 

]Mariner, mariner, furl your sails. 

For here are the blissful downs and dales. 

And merrily, merrily carol the gales, 

And the spangle dances in bight and bay. 

And the rainbow forms and flies on the land 

Over the islands free; 

And the rainbow lives in the curve of the sand; 

Hither, come hither and see; 

And the rainbow hangs on the poising wave, 

And sweet is the colour of cove and cave, 

And sweet shall 3'our welcome be: 

O hither, come hither, and be our lords, 

For merry brides are we: 

We will kiss sweet kisses, and speak sweet words: 

O listen, listen, 3-our eyes shall glisten 

With pleasure and love and jubilee: 

O listen, listen, your eyes shall glisten 

When the sharp clear twang of the golden chords 

Runs up the ridged sea. 

Who can light on as happy a shore 

All the world o'er, all the world o'er? 

Whither away? listen and stay: mariner, mariner, 
fly no more. 



THE MERMAID. 



1. 

AVho would be 
A mermaid fair, 
Sin^i^ing alone, 
Combing her hair 
Under the sea, 
In a golden curl 
With a comb of pearl, 
On a throne ? 

II. 

I would be a mermaid fair; 
I would sing to n^'self the whole of the day; 
With a comb of pearl I would comb ni}' hair; 
And still as I comb'd I would sing and say, 
'Who is it loves me? who loves not me.^' 
I would comb my hair till m}' ringlets would fall 
Low adown, low adown. 



From under ni}' starry sea-bud crown 

Low adown and around. 
And I should look like a fountain of aoM 
Springing alone 

AVith a shrill inner sound, 
Over the throne 

In the midst of the hall* 
Till that great sea-snake under the sea 
From his coiled sleeps in the central deeps 
Would slowly trail himself sevenfold 
Round the hall where I sate, and look in at the 

gate 
With his large calm eyes for the love of me. 
And all the mermen under the sea 
AVould feel their immortalitv 
Die in their hearts for the love of me, 

III. 

But at night I would wander aw^ay, away, 

I would fling on each side mv low-iiowing locks, 

And lightly vault from the throne and pla} 
With the mermen in and put of the rocks; 

We would run to and fro, and hide and seek, 
On the broad sea-wolcls in the crimson shells, 
Whose silvery spikes are nighest the sea. 

But if anv came near I would call, and shriek, 

And adown the steep like a wave I would leap 




.Is^yi^pA^f* 



From the diamond-led^cs that jut from the dells; 
For I would not be kiss'd bv all who would list, 
Of the bold merry niermen under the sea; 
Thev would sue me, and woo me, and flatter me, 
In the purple twilio-hts under the sea; 
But the king of them all would carry me, 
Woo me, and win me, and marry me. 
In the branching jaspers inider the sea; 
Then all the dry pied things that be 
In the hueless mosses under the sea 
Would curl round niy silyer I'eet sdently. 
All looking up for the lo^'e of me. 
And if I should carol aloud, from aloft 
All things that are forked, and horned, and soft 
Would lean out from the hollow sphere of the sea. 
All looking down for the loye of m.e. 












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RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ARABIAN 

NIGHTS. 



Whex the breeze of :i joyful dawn blew free 

In the silken sail of infaney, 

The tide of time tiow'd back with me. 

The forward-tiowino- tide of time; 
And man\' a sheeny siimmer-morn, 
Adown the Tigris I was borne, 
Bv Bag-dat's shrines ot fretted gold, 
Hio-h-walled ^-ardens o-reen and old; 
True Mussulman was I and sworn. 

For it was in the golden prime 
Of good Ilaroim Alrasehid. 

Anight mv shalkip. rustling thro' 
The low and bloomed foliage, drtn-e 
The fragrant, glistening deeps, and elove 
The eitron-shadows in the blue: 
Bv garden porehes on the brim. 
The eostlv doors tiung open wide. 
Gold glittering thro' lamplight dim. 
And broider'd sofas on each side: 

In sooth it was a goodly time. 

For it was in the golden prime 
Of iiood Ilaroun Alrasehid. 



Often where clear-stemni'd platans guard 
The outlet, did I turn away 
The boat-head down a broad canal 
Froin the main river sluiced, where all 
The sloping of the moon-lit sward 
Was damask-work, and deep inlay 
Of braided blooms unmown, which crept 
Adown to where the water slept« 
A goodly place, a goodly time, 
For it was in the golden prime 
Of o-ood Ilaroun Alraschid. 



& 



A motion from the ri^'er won 
Ridged the smooth level, bearing on 
My shallop thro' the star-strown calm, 
Until another night in night 
I enter'd, from the clearer light, 
ImbowerVl vaults of pillar'd palm. 
Imprisoning sweets, which, as they clomb 
Heavenward, were stav'd beneath the dome 
Of hollow boughs. — A goodly time, 
For it was in the golden prime 
Of ofood Haroun Alraschid. 




3IB^ 



Still onward; and the clear canal 
Is rounded to as clear a lake. 
From the green rivage many a fall 
Ot^ diamond rillets musical, 
Thro' little crystal arches low 
Down from the central fountani's flow 
FalFn silver-chiming, seemed to shake 
The sparkling flints beneath the prow. 
A goodly place, a goodly time, 
For it was in the golden prime 
Of good Haroun Alraschid. 

Abo^•e thro"" many a bowery turn 
A walk with vary-colour'd shells 
Wander'd eno-rain'd. On either side 
All round about the frasfrant marge 
From fluted vase, and brazen urn 
In order, eastern flowers large. 
Some dropping low their crimson bells 
Half-closed, and others studded wide 
With disks and tiars, fed the time 
With odour in the golden prime 
Of o^ood Haroun Alraschid. 



Far off, and where the lemon grove 
In closest coverture upsprung, 
The liviniT airs of middle night 
Died round the bulbul as he sung; 
Not he: but something which possess'd 
The darkness of the world, delight. 
Life, anguish, death, immortal love, 
Ceasing not, mingled, unrepress^d, 
Apart from place, withholding time, 
But flattering the golden prime 
Of good Haroun Alraschid. 

Black the garden-bowers and grots 
Slumber'd: the solemn palms were ranged 
Above, unwoo'd of summer wind: 
A sudden splendour from behind 
Flush'd all the leaves with rich gold-green, 
And, flowing rapidly between 
Their interspaces, counterchanged 
The level lake with diamond-plots 

Of dark and bright. A loveh' time. 

For it was in the golden prime 
Of orood Haroun Alraschid. 



Dark-blue the deep sphere o^"erhead, 
Distinct with vivid stiirs inhiid. 
Grew darker troiii that under-flame: 
So, leaping lightly from the boat, 
With silver anchor left afloat. 
In mar\el whence that glory came 
Upon me, as in sleep I sank 
In cool soft turf upon the bank. 

Entranced with that place and time. 
So worthy of tlie golden prime 
Of good Haroun Alraschid. 

Thence thro' the garden I was drawn — 
A realm of pleasance, many a mound. 
And many a shadow-chequer'd lawn 
Full of tlie city's stilly sound. 
And deep im-rrh-tliickets blowing round 
The stately cedar, tamarisks. 
Thick rosaries of scented tliom. 
Tall orient shrubs, and obelisks 

Graven with emblems of the time. 
In honour of tlie golden prime 
Of eood Haroun Alraschid. 



With dazed vision unawares 
From the K^ng alle\*s hittieed shade 
Emerired, I e;une upon the great 
PaviHon ot" the Caliphat. 
Right to the carxen cedarn doors, 
Fkmg inward over spangled floors. 
Broad-based flights of marble staii-s 
Ran up with golden balustrade. 
After tlie fashion of the time. 
And humour of the golden prime 
Of good Hiu-oun Alraschid. 

The foursciire windows all alight 
As with the quintessence of flame, 
A million tapers flaring bright 
From twisted silvers look'd to shame 
The hollow-vaulted dark, and stream'd 
Upon the mooned domes aloof 
In inmost Bagdat, till there seem'd 
Hundreds of crescents on the roof 

Of night new-risen, that marvellous time 
To celebrate the golden prime 
Of good Haroun Alraschid. 



Then stole I up, and trancedly 
Gazed on the Persian ^irl alone, 
Serene witli arovnt-lidded eyes 
Amorous, and lashes like to ravs 
Of darkness, and a brow ot' pearl 
Tressed with redolent ebonv. 
In manv a dark delicious curl. 
Flowing' beneath her rose-hued zone; 
The sweetest lady ot' the time. 
Well worthy ot' the ot)lt\on prime 
Of good Ilaroim Alraschid. 

Six columns, three on either side. 

Pure siher, miderpropt a rich 

Throne oi the massive ore, from which 

Down-droop'd, in many a tioating- fold, 

Engarlanded and diaper'd 

With inwrought tiowers, a cloth of gold. 

Thereon, his deep eye laughter-stirr'd 

With merriment of kinglv pride. 

Sole star of all that place and time, 
I saw him — in his golden prime. 
The Good Harolx Alraschid. 



THE DYING SWAN, 



I. 

The plain was grassv. M'ild and bare, 
Wide, wild, and open to the air, 
Whieh had built up ever\-where 

An under-roof ot' doleful graw 
With an inner voiee the river ran. 
Adown it floated a dving swan, 
And loudly did lament. 

It was the middle of the dav. 
Ever the weary wind went on. 

And took the reed-tops as it went. 

II. 

Some blue peaks in the distance rose. 
And white against the cold-white sky, 
Shone out their crowning snows. 

One willow over the ri^■er wept. 
And shook the waAC as the wind did sighj 
Above in the wind was the swallow. 
Chasing itself at its own wild will. 
And far thro' the marish green and still 

The tangled water-courses slept. 
Shot over with purple, and green, and vellow 



III. 
The wild swan's death-hymn took the soul 
Of that waste place with joy 
Hidden in sorrow: at first to the ear 
The warble was low, and full and clear; 
And floating about the under-sky, 
Prevailing in weakness, the coronach stole 
Sometimes afar, and sometimes anear; 
But anon her awful jubilant voice, 
With music strange and manifold, 
Flow'd forth on a carol free and bold ; 
As when a mighty people rejoice 
With shawms, and with cymbals, and harps of gold, 
And the tumult of their acclaim is roll'd 
Thro' the open gates of the city afar, 
To the shepherd who watchcth the evening star. 
And the creeping mosses and clambering weeds, 
And the willow-branches hoar and dank. 
And the wavy swell of the soughing reeds, 
And the wave-worn horns of the echoing bank, 
And the silvery marish flowers that throng 
The desolate creeks and pools among, 
Were flooded over with eddying song. 



NOTHING WILL DIE. 



Whex will the stream be awearv ot" tiowintr 

Under niv eve? 
"When will the wind be aweary ot' blowing- 
Over the sky? 
When will the elouds be awearv ot" fleeting? 
When will the heart be a wear}' ot" beating? 

^Vnd nature die ? 
Never, oh I never, nothing will die; 

The stream t^ows, 

The wind blows. 

The eloiid fleets, 

The heart beats, 
Xothino- will die. 



Nothing wiii die; 
All things will change 
Thro' eternit}'. 
•Tis the world's winter; 
Autumn and summer 
Are gone long ago ; 
Earth is dr}- to the centre. 
But spring, a new comer, 
A spring rich and strange, 
Shall make the winds blow 
Round and round. 
Thro' and thro', 

Here and there, 

Till the air 
And the ground 
Shall be till'd with lite anew. 

The world was ne^'er made; 

It will change, but it will not fade. 

So let the wind range; 

For even and morn 

Ever will be 

Thro' eternitv. 
Nothing was born; 
Nothing will die; 
All thino-s ^vil] chancre. 





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' ' ■■ '""^TiP'iiiT 






nARiANA Tn Th imjn 




MARIANA IN THE SOITH. 



With one black shadow at its loot. 

The house thro' all the level shines. 
Close-latticed to the brooding heat. 

And silent in its dusty vines: 
A faint-blue ridge upon the right. 
An empty river-bed betore. 
And shallows on a distant shore. 
In glaring sand and inlets bright. 

But " Ave Mary." made she moan. 

And * A\ o M;iry,' night and mom. 
And * Ah.* she s;vng, *to be all alone. 
To live forgotten, and love forlorn.* 

She, as hor caivl sadder gixnv. 

From brv>w and bosom slowly dowii 
Thix>* rosy taper tingvrs drew 

Her streaming curls of deepest bix»wn 
To left and right, and made appcm- 
Still-lighted in a secret shrine, 
Iler melancholy eyes divine. 
The home of woe without a te;u'. 

A^.hI * -V\ o Maiy.' was her mo;ui, 

' Madonna, s;id is night and mom,' 
And "Ah," she s;vng, *to be all alone. 
To live fbrvjotten, and love forlorn.* 



Till all the crimson changed, and past 

Into deep orange o'er the sea, 
Low on her knees herself she cast, 
Before Our Lad\' murrnurVl she; 
Complaining, ' Mother, give me grace 
To help me of ni}- weary load.' 
And on the liquid mirror glow'd 
The clear perfection of her face. 

' Is this the form,' she made her moan, 

' That won his praises night and morn? 
And ' Ah,' she said, ' but I wake alone, 
I sleep Ibrgotten, I wake forlorn.' 

Nor bird would sing, nor lamb would bleat, 

Nor any cloud would cross the vault, 
But day increased from heat to heat. 

On stonv drought and steaming salt; 
Till now at noon she slept again. 

And seem'd knee-deep in mountain grass, 
And heard her native breezes pass, 
And runlets babbling down the glen. 

She breathed in sleep a lower moan. 

And murmuring, as at night and morn. 
She thought, ' My spirit is here alone. 
Walks forgotten, and is forlorn.' 



Dreaming, she knew it was a dream: 
She felt he was and was not there. 
She woke : the babble ot' the stream 
Fell, and, without, the stead}' glare 
Shrank one siek ^villow sere and small. 
The river-bed was dust\-white; 
And all the furnaee of the light 
Struek up against the blinding wall. 

She whisper'd, with a stifled moan 

INIore inward than at night or morn, 
"" Sweet ^Mother, let me not here alone 
Li\e forgotten and die forlorn." 

And, rising, trom her bosom drew 

Old letters, breathing of her worth. 
For ' Love," they said, ' must needs be true, 

To what is loveliest upon earth.' 
An image seem'd to pass the door, 
To look at her with slight, and say 
^ But now thy beaut}' flows awa}'. 
So be alone for evermore.' 

' O eruel heart," she changed her tone, 

' And cruel love, whose end is scorn, 
Is this the end to be lett alone. 

To live forgotten, and die forlorn?' 



But sometimes in tlie talliiii;- da\" 

An image seem'd to pass the door. 
To look into her e^es and sa\-. 

* Rut thou Shalt be alone no more.' 
And tlamiui;' downward o\er all 

From heat to heat the day deereased. 
And sKnvK- rounded to the east 
The one blaek shadow tVom the wall. 

^ The day to night.* she made her moan. 
' The dav to night, the night to morn. 
And day and night I am let't alone 
To live tlnvotten, and love forlorn.' 

At e\ e a drv eieala suuix. 

There eame a sound as of the sea: 
Baekward the lattiee-blind she tlung. 

And lean'd upon the baleonx". 
There all in spaees rosv-bright 

Large Ilesper glitter'd on her tears. 
And deepening thro' the silent spheres 
Heaven over IIea\en rose the nigiit. 

And weeping then she made her moan, 

* The night comes on that knows not moiTi, 
When I shall eease to be all alone. 
To live tbr^otten, and love t'orlorn.' 



UBRARV OF 

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CONGRESS 



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